31 May 2011

1 pesetas advice.


The facebook phenomenon is one of the hip things I’d (gulp) admit I enjoy to be a part of. Photography is another, but I will not consider myself hip. I was tempted to add running but I’ve long been off my daily runs to actually consider myself “in” in the hip runners crowd. And also because I never owned any of those singlet things. And also because in the 10 years I ran, I never joined any single marathon, except the fun runs at school because during the time I was actively running, it was never hip to be a runner. Mountain-hiking, I also tried joining when I was in the university but I was too poor to be a regular member of those mountaineering clubs. My parents, my father especially, never supported any of those seemingly expensive hobbies. Funny thing is, he would also shop at brands which shirts cost at least 4 figures. A shirt costing more than a thousand pesos is always classy to a working class.


So what then, is my point?

As my ABD said, facebook is an image-building tool more than it is a social networking tool. It is in facebook where we build identities to show to the world what we want them to believe we are. Just look at how people would compose 3-sentenced arguments to expound the links they share, if only to show their level of, well, intellect. I am not pure, and as I said before, I enjoy using facebook so do not take this as an anti-facebook tirade.

At one point in my history of facebook use, I exploited all its free speech privileges to show to people how intelligent I am. Or how elaborate my taste in architecture is. What led me to discontinue this habit was that, my endless postings of clever musings to catch people’s attention, only gave me more than all the crappy responses I could handle. At the end of the day, I find myself lacking the cleverness I had at point 0.

As my friend Liby also said before: “Dapat ba talagang maging maingay?” (Should we really be loud?) It was one of the best thoughts I’ve read on facebook. (But this is not to offend the fighters who literally make very loud noise against tuition and oil price hike; noise to uphold human rights and our sovereignty. I think you are doing us silent types a favor, keep them coming.)

I suppose tact, (second only to common sense) is also very difficult to find amongst facebook users as it is only comes with age (but as for mature people without tact, don’t ask me for an explanation) and with experience. A set of tactful and sensible friends will also help but not if one does not listen to them.

Facebook helped spread the word on the RH Bill and everyone talked about it. Everyone, at least, knew a fraction about it. By the time it became super hot news, my newsfeed was completely flooded by each and every of those one claiming to know more than the others, each one trying to be more eloquent than the other. These everyone became half-assed RH Bill lobbyists, and the whole charade ceased being impressive. It made me wonder if they’re for real. If, in real life, when confronted by a wife or a husband who prefers a childless marriage, would they really apply the principles of RH Bill, or even just the basic freedom of choice?

[One weekend, when our friends and I gathered, we laughed at the most “’trying hard’ to be articulate” one. We’re tactful enough to keep the jokes to ourselves. But yes, that is right, it’s a cruel thing to do. But as this Matt Damon character in Syriana said: “It’s not racist when it’s something positive.” The same way, it’s not cruelty when we get a good laugh out of it—OH, Gad, I’m so sorry. Delete, delete, delete. ]

It’s the same thing with this green thing. Allow me to make a little diversion here. When we were young, my father would often tell us about throwing things in proper places (yeah, those were the days) which resulted in our early conversion to what was then a seemingly new religion called “environmentalism”. The conversion surpassed its rocky  superficial stage and I carried the environmentalist habits up until the present, exemplified primarily by my disdain for impulsive and unnecessary fashion shopping.

One of the things my father lectured was to not burn leaves of the trees (as I would later learn that open-burning is prohibited as per RA 9003 or the Ecological Solid Waste Management Act of 2000) because they decompose easily  in no time can be used as fertilizer. He also taught us to not the importance of trees, animals and insects because in maintaining nature’s ecological balance. Up to this day my parents maintain an organic garden (literally organic, meaning, when a fruit of vegetable gets rotten, they just throw it at the corner of our backyard and wait for new plants to sprout. In few months, they will be harvesting fruits of these plants.) And because we are environmentalists we’re not supposed to throw things away unless they are beyond recognition from what they originally looked like. What I mean is, we were green even before green was in. it was just our way of life. (But, alas,  we lost our father to the glitzy stores of SM City and to his newly acquired purchasing power.) And now that it is really very very in, HIP is probably the more appropriate term, to be green, every person, even the top-ranking consumerist calls himself “green.” People easily buy that, too.

Again, what is my point here?

My point is, runners who pretend to run to promote/advocating green/er environment cannot even contain themselves from their running shoes shopping spree. Most of them would throw away their barely used trainers in favor of the hipper models. So where’s the green stuff there? Musicians who advocate earth hour organize earth day concerts, where the amount of energy they consume from all the lights and their high-powered gadgets is equivalent to at least a month’s worth of earth hour. (I am tempted to concoct an excuse that these musicians are just color-blind.)  Mothers who pretend to be so green and use wooden toys forget that the act of buying these hip, green toys actually fuel the need to manufacture MORE wooden toys. And you know where this kind of thing leads to. My friend gifted my kid a small wooden toy before, as a token of our friendship. I didn’t hold that against her as she is not the type who will buy a ton of wooden toys just for the hell of it.

I remember chancing upon the green episode of a local talkshow aired by the university channel. In that particular episode the show interviewed an architect who markets himself as the “Green Architect” because he makes, well, green buildings. (But are not buildings supposed to be green as a default?—says Keith). He arrived at the topic of electric consumption, said that household’s monthly electricity bill about PHP12,000-15,000. It’s a little heavy on the pockets, he said. And his solution? Install solar panels. That way, he says, you lower your monthly electrical bills. There is something very very wrong with this proposition, this way of thinking. Frankly, one doesn’t become an environment warrior or green hero by mere conversion of his/her energy source. One becomes so but using electricity sensibly. More so, you do not become green by converting all your 10,000 plastic wares to 10,000 wooden wares when you can live by just using 5 of them.  

The sad thing is, most of my friends in facebook subscribe to this idea--the end-of-pipe solution: change of energy source, change of type of material, change from leatherette bag to katcha bag. It should be outlawed and it should be made known to everyone that pop environmentalism is for idiots. 

I believe that the greenest thing to do is to live a very simple, basic life, and I don’t mean live like a hermit. That’s taking “green” too literal and too far out of context.

And again, because facebook is into image-building, many users will actually be falsely led into believing that their facebook friend is something that he is not. So be very careful of what and whose ideas to subscribe to, in absence of further reading, most especially in absence of the knowledge of the fundamentals of the issue being raised. After all, there is no such thing as facebook university.  

Just my 1 pesetas worth. 











27 May 2011

Happy weekend!


When You Were Young
the Killers



You sit there in your heartache
Waiting on some beautiful boy to
To save you from your old ways
You play forgiveness
Watch it now
Here he comes

He doesnt look a thing like Jesus
But he talks like a gentleman
Like you imagined
When you were young

Can we climb this mountain
I dont know
Higher now than ever before
I know we can make it if we take it slow
Let's take it easy
Easy now
Watch it go

We're burning down the highway skyline
On the back of a hurricane
That started turning
When you were young
When you were young

And sometimes you close your eyes
And see the place where you used to live
When you were young

They say the devil's water
It ain't so sweet
You dont have to drink right now
But you can dip your feet
Every once in a little while

You sit there in your heartache
Waiting on some beautiful boy to
To save you from your old ways
You play forgiveness
Watch it now
Here he comes

He doesnt look a thing like Jesus
But he talks like a gentleman
Like you imagined
When you were young
(talks like a gentleman)
(like you imagined)
When you were young

I said he doesnt look a thing like Jesus
He doesnt look a thing like Jesus
But more than you'll ever know




----

This is the music i've been addicted to for the now. It's sad. and it's raining here. 

Happy weekend everyone!


Update


I was reminded by my husband that when i was pregnant with our only kid (and had lots of free time) we never missed an episode of the reality show RockStar (the reality contest for a NEW INXS frontwo/man about 5 years ago or so, remember?). He said that most of the songs contestants covered in the duration of the show were that of The Killers'. Maybe, he said, that explains my recent obsession with the band.

Still, i don't remember a thing about it, but his seemed like a viable explanation.

Sex, Drugs and Stores.



“We should bring him to the hospital.”

That's my father delivering the most over-used sentence in our household. It’s like a default statement whenever there’s a health emergency.

Here’s the scene: My kid has low-grade fever, mild migraine, has vomited at least once and possibly a urinary tract infection. It wouldn’t have mattered though if he was nearby but he was 120 kilometers away, in rural Antique with just his father, his aunt and a handful of household help. The nanny we recently hired for him proved to be hopeless as she could not read nor write and is practically useless around mobile phones.

The hospital comment sealed it off. The kid’s father, a level-headed, clear-thinking, very organized architect, announced he’s given up. He couldn’t take anymore of the flood of instructions that came first, by a series of phone calls and then, by a deluge of sms messages, from three different people – my father, my mother and me.

I apologized for marrying him into a family of hypochondriacs.

But I cannot blame my parents or even myself for reacting that way. He’s, after all, the only boy of the two grandkids that our family has. And he’s gonna be fulfilling my failed dream of becoming a rock star. 

That’s not the only thing that happened. My day—no, my week!--has turned into a compendium of health problems (my maternal grandmother had aneurysm 4 days prior to this, and days before that, my paternal centenarian grandmother suffered from pneumonia). What made it even worse was that earlier, the people at two major drug store chains refused to sell me Vagi-Hex or Monistat.

One drugstore sales guy (NO, I refuse to call them pharmacists as all they do is facilitate the selling-buying of medicine in the drugstore something that even my mother’s assistant can certainly do and he’s not even finished college), upon hearing vagi-hex turns around and says to his female co-saleslady:

“We don’t have Vagi-hex, no?”

Female co-saleslady pursed her lips, nose and eyes together. I watched as her face crumpled into something like a pinched dimsum top. She thought for 2 seconds and then shook her head.

Drugstore sales guy’s got his computer right in front of him and he didn’t even check.

“We don’t have it,” he told me with finality.

“I—“ I wanted to ask him to look further but he’s turned his back on me and was already entertaining another customer.



So I went to another drug store chain. This one is well-known for their slow service, but surprisingly they were serving only one customer when I walked it. People have started to realized this drugstore is not worth their money.

“I need Vagi-hex,” I told the saleslady. I watched her enter it into the computer. I swear I saw her punched a “C”.

“Vaaa-gee-hexxxxx,” she muttered, as she moved along her computer keys.

Nothing probably came out as she moved to another computer and did the same thing: “Vaaaa-geee-hexxxx.”

This time I wasn’t able to see her type. But I swear. She punched a “C” the first time.

“We don’t have it,” she told me.

“Or Monistat,” I told her, getting irritated.

“Monistat?”

Yes, monistat! Christ don’t you people see a gynecologist ever? I swear yeast-infection is so common and you look like someone who’s at least gotten a yeast infection. 

“Mowww-neees-tat.” She gave her computer a quick type and said, “We don’t have that, too.”

That’s it.

“You mean by saying you don’t have it is that your drugstore doesn’t carry it or that you’ve ran out of it?”

“I mean, we’re out of stock.”

Now, that’s a classic. The default statement of dumb salesladies.


My friends and I tried that trick before. We went to a record shop, and started looking for the (yes!) cassette tape that we’re meant to purchase. Expectedly, the saleslady started trailing us as we go from one stall to another lest we’d steal their goods. So one of our friends faced the lady and asked for a certain record. And because that record we asked for was super indie underground in our side of the earth, all we got from her was: “Oh, we’re out of stock.”

Then my friend turned around, grabbed the cassette copy of the very same thing she asked from the lady and gave it for her to peel off the security sticker.



The lady at the drugstore gave me a weird look for asking her to explain further and for asking the question in English. I did not mean to sound so elitist, as I surely did not look like one that moment, but dude, I was beyond offended. She gave me a look as if I’m asking for a box of male condoms and not a box of vaginal prophylactic tablets (yes, that’s precisely why, at 31, I have not yet tried buying condoms myself). I’m sorry I looked like an 18 year-old college kid, especially with my books and my backpack (what the hell’s my business carrying a Frank Conroy book to office, anyway? And an Iraq memoir?) but my ring was a total giveaway any moron would have understod: I’m married and I’ve had hundreds of orgasms already, okay?


This second drug store is the same drug store that refused to sell me pregnancy test kit for reasons only a bigot would understand.


This same month 5 years ago, suspecting I was pregnant I went to this drugstore to buy a kit. It so happened that my equally baby-face male friend decided to tag along. So now what do we have here? A couple of co-ed college kids who are in fact, in their late twenties, and already working as underpaid research assistants in the university. But no, this pro RH-Bill saleslady went by her hunch that we are promiscuous, unmarried university students living off our parents’ money (okay, so the unmarried part was right, but that does not give her the right to decide what’s best for me. Especially when I can pay for my own pregnancy test kit.) and told us,

“Oh, we’re out of stock of pregnancy kits.”

Baby-face Male friend chuckled and said: “Wow, I'm amazed. Everyone in Iloilo is so fertile.”

“I can’t believe everyone decided to suspect they were pregnant at the same time I did,” I told the lady, giving her an over-friendly smile.

“I will ask my supervisor,” was her reply and left to the recess of her supervisor’s cubicle.

Smart girl, she understood my humor, even if I wasn’t really trying to be funny.

Male friend said, “Now, you should really be proud. They all think you’re in high school.”

After what felt like 10 years, the supervisor and the saleslady came back to the counter and told me the kit is P65.00. She’s put it at the counter, and is ready to be packed.


The kid, said the level-headed, clear-thinking, very organized architect father (LHCTVOAF), seemed to feel better after his unexpected vomit episode.

“He’s back to his usual, hyperactive self,” he said, now a lot calmer. I half expected a reply teeming with annoyance. If there’s anything this person hates, it’s ruining his schedule and making him do something close to impossibility.

When I called following a mild panic over LHCTVOAF’s announcement that he doesn’t want to take any more instructions, LHCTVOAF informed me that the kid was on a “time-out”. Apparently he’s vomited all the bad energy and he’s back to being a plain non-sick, unbelievably distracting kid.

And I’m quite relieved. I apologized again and gave LHCTVOAF what is now, a clear and easy set of instruction. I don’t mean to be sexist here, but really, nothing beats a woman’s instincts when it comes to handling toddler emergency crises. Much as I don’t want to, but my husband and I know that in situations like this when both of us are present, the better one takes over--me. He’s more of like a supervisor who scolds me when I go overboard, like this one time I insisted on bringing the kid to the hospital over an HFMD (hand-foot-mouth disease—totally manageable and it’s not even super contagious to adults. All you gotta do is manage the kid’s fluid intake) attack.

I clocked in the final instruction at 9:45 pm, and was told they’re in the middle of the pre-sleep reading routine.

Tomorrow, I would have to do some night travelling because the kid’s been asking for the nth time when I’d be coming over to visit him. And I don’t think this coming home could wait for one more night.




FIN.



25 May 2011

The "How to apply for the Environmental Planning Exam" for dummies

The final verdict is…rejection of my application for the Environmental Planning board exam, thanks to the certificate of experience signed only by a Municipal Planning and Development Coordinator, not by a certified Environmental Planner.

I’m tired of pushing it further. Dear God does not want me to take the exam ahead of Keith.

But what the hell is this Environmental Planning animal—EnP, for short--anyway?

Environmental Planning is the institutionalized version of urban planning because in reality, as a profession, urban planning in the Philippines is non-existent. The EnP practice is regulated by the Presidential Decree 1308. Basically the graduates of MA URP can apply for the exam without the need for the certificate of experience. And i also read somewhere that graduates of allied planning course like architecture, environmental management and the likes need only to take crash courses in planning (I don't know, maybe 40 hours long?) and some sort of a certification and they're okay to take the exam. 

In my case, however, my undergraduate degree & program was in the field of social science  so I needed units in urban planning in order to be legible for the board exam. I’ve done it all—I took a diploma course in urban and regional planning, and have been in development work for the last 4 years, much of which is focused on transportation planning and road network development, and being in the whole shitty mess of the system of governance in the local government. If that does not constitute a planning experience, I don’t know what does.

The reason why my certificate of experience was not signed by an EnP because the EnPs I personally know were out of the country when I decided to take the board exam. When I started processing my application, they’re still out and away. Meanwhile, the EnPs that were “referred” to me (to our group), the EnPs who were alumni of the diploma program to which I am also an alumnus, refused to sign. One even said that his signature would require at least 2 months of on-the-job training. Christ. I have drafted a provincial road network development plan on my own, what more experience did he want?

I know and understand where PRC is coming from. They are a regulatory institution and regulations are not meant to make things convenient to everyone. So I made this post in order to assist those willing to take the EnP exam in the future, particularly those coming from the diploma program of urban and regional planning of UP Visayas.

Here’s the checklist I made. The comments come as bonus.



           1. Birth Certificate in NSO SECurity PApers (SECPA)
I know, everything needs to be in the costly NSO SECPA now. The cost won’t really matter if the lines at NSO aren’t that long. Since i have a day job and this is a rush job, to get this, I had to ask my husband to take a day off at work so he could get my security papers in my behalf.
The NSO in Region VI (in Iloilo) is now located at the building right across Amigo Hotel. If you go there early in the morning (meaning, before 8 am) you won’t get lost. The length of the lines will give the location away. Just follow the line.

This along with other SECPAs (CENOMAR, Marriage Certificate, etc), by the way, you can also get somewhere else. Like the NSO kiosk at SM City Iloilo but it will take about 5 working days before you can get your SECPA if you use the SM City method. Another option is to go through the online SECPA request--which will require you your credit card number. But this one is truly for the dummies as once your request is in (meaning you've paid online), you can just sit back and relax, and wait for the mailman to deliver your SECPA to your doorstep. 



2.    Marriage Certificate in NSO SECurity Papers (FOR MARRIED FEMALE APPLICANTS)
My husband and I agreed that I will retain my maiden surname after marriage so when applying for EVERYTHING, my marriage certificate is as indispensable as my valid ID. Usually when a woman wants to use her husband’s surname she’d have to apply for a change of name in the school she attended and in all other institutions that bear her pertinent records, like work for that matter. And because I didn’t change my name, my school records remained as virginal as they could be. In cases similar to mine, WOMEN, when filling out the application form you write your maiden surname and just indicate your married name (husband’s surname) with a dash. That solves the problem. And PRC allows it.

And there is no such thing as a NEW LAW in the Philippines that allows married women to use their maiden surname. Married women are always allowed to use their maiden surname and it was NEVER mandatory to change surname with a change of civil status. 

I did not encounter any problem as regards single-married name at PRC. Unlike in Comelec where, in the voter’s registration, I specifically retained my singular name and wrote my husband’s name in the box that says: Spouse’s name. When my Voter’s ID was issued, the people at the COMELEC automatically changed my surname to that of my husband’s.
Seeing it, my husband looked at me apologetically and said, “I really make things hard for you, don’t I?”

It’s the same thing with the passport. I applied for renewal of passport and subsequently applied for a change in civil status (which actually does not appear in the passport profile, anyway). For me to retain my singular name I was given two options: One is to present certification of a marriage annulled or proof that I am a widow.
So change of surname it is.



3.     Official transcript of records with your PICTURE and a note: “For Board Exam Purposes Only” written somewhere.
For UPV graduate program alumni who can’t find time to go to Miag-ao to get their OTR, all you do is get in touch with the Graduate Program Office (GPO).
For those who know the number of pages of their OTR, you can go directly to the cash office located at the College of Management. When you get there tell the person at the cash register that you’re requesting for OTR. She may require you to fill out a form or something. Each page cost PHP30.00 so if you’ve seen your OTR before you’ll know how much you’re going to pay.


For those first-time OTR requesters, you may really need to go to Miag ao, OR be extra friendly to the staff of the registrar's office so they can check out your records and give you the information you want through the phone. 


Once you’ve paid, you put your official receipt (either a photocopy or the original but be sure to retain a proof of the receipt for yourself just to be sure) and a passport-sized ID picture (with white background and you must be wearing a collared-shirt in the picture) inside an envelope. When the documents are ready you hand it to Ng Jo Jinon of the GPO and ask her to pouch it to the Registrar’s Office for you. Pouching means sending the documents to Miag-ao. BE friendly and kind, if you're usually not as pouching in behalf of the graduate alumni is not part of Ng Jo's work. 
Once your OTR is prepared, the Registrar Office will pouch your transcript back to the GPO. At these times it takes about 10 working days maximum for the transcript to be ready because a lot of new graduates are requesting for copies. Come the last quarter of the year and you can just walk in the Registrar’s Office, file a request and the Reg Office staff will prepare your OTR while you’re paying at the cash office.

Anyway, make sure you call Ng Jo from time to time about your OTR because she is also busy and because she is not your nanny.

Any by the way, requesting for OTR does not require personal appearance. Your dog can do it for you, if your dog is the speakin’-an’-writin’ type.



4.     Certificate of Good Moral
The certificate has to categorically contain the phrase: “a person of good moral character” otherwise PRC will ask you to get other proofs of your morality somewhere else. For NEW GRADS, you may request if from your school. However, in the case of the DURP UPVisayas, all that the College issues is a document certifying the “absence of any legal or administrative violations”. It might be possible to ask the preparer to put the good moral thing somewhere in the paragraph, so better do.

For OLD Graduates, like me, get your certificate of good moral from your barangay captain. And since you’re in the planning business, better start rubbing elbows with the basic unit of planning in your community—the barangay.



5.    Community Tax Certificate (CEDULA/CTC)
For City residents you get it at the City Hall, at the Office of the Treasurer. There’s no lining-up getting this, and it’s easy as 1-2-3.



6.     CERTIFICATE OF EMPLOYMENT
Which you will request from your employer. If your work is remotely related to planning please take note that I am not suggesting you fabricate some sort of an employment certificate from somebody who can provide you with such. The signatory for your certificate of employment must be the head of the office.
The board requires at least TWO YEARS of planning experience for one to qualify to take the environmental planning exam.



7.     CERTIFICATE OF EXPERIENCE
You need to have a Registered EnP sign this. PRC has a form (you get from the guy at the entrance) for this which you fill out, attach your certificate of employment to, and have an EnP sign it. Once the EnP has signed, you need to have it notarized. When you have this notarized, make sure you have your CTC number as the Notary Public will need it for his records.

Ideally, this certification presents a proof that during the time you were employed by the company where you requested a CERTIFICATE OF EMPLOYMENT from, you were supervised by the EnP, the same person signing your Certificate of Experience. And since that is close to impossible, please note that I am not telling you that that does not matter since PRC will not be assessing if the EnP actually supervised you or not. What’s important is, you got an EnP-signed Certificate of Experience.



8.       A PHOTOCOPY OF ALL THE ABOVE-STATED DOCUMENTS

9.       4 pieces of ID Pictures with PRC seal
Which you can only obtain from the photographer of the PRC Employees Cooperative. It costs PHP70.00 for four pieces of once-in-a-lifetime mug-shot look. The PRC seal photoshopped at the upper right corner is a freebie. You need to have a collared shirt for this, doesn’t matter what color or design, long as your collared shirt is not without sleeves. If you come for your picture-taking in non-collared shirt, you will be compelled to wear the dirty collared shirt (which a thousand previous applicants has also worn) for your picture taking, which provided by the photographer.

Trust me, my husband had gone through this while applying for the Architecture exam. The shirts smelled bad, he said.

These pictures are the ones you will use for your application and registration forms.



10.  PRC Application form
Which will only be issued to you once you’ve bought a Documentary Stamp at the PRC Employees Cooperative. Despite the form being NOT FOR SALE, meaning reproducible, you cannot do so because it already has a documentary stamp pasted on it.
And no, you cannot use the form downloaded from the PRC site even if they look very much the same. Says who?
Says the PRC entrance guy.
And the guy at the entrance (no, not the guards, the PRC guy—he also issues the queuing number) will only give you the application form once all your requirements are complete.



11. PHP 900.00 as application fee. 
     You need not pay this if you get rejected. But when you go to PRC bring money along just to be sure. 


           
12. Then you line up (at window 8) and wait for the verdict.


If the verdict is bad, like mine, there’s a local coffeeshop located just across the PRC building. Try to nurse your broken heart with a cup of frappe loaded with fatty whip cream. It will make you feel better.

But before anything else, may I tell you that NO, reviews and crash courses will not assure you a passing rate. What will assure your passing the board exam is quality and span of your reading, reading and more reading of things specific and related to planning.

When I apply for the environmental planning exam next time—next year’s board exam—PRC better sees to it that the application process is a lot easier for a re-applier like me. Also, it would be a big help if you do things in group and if each member of your group is looking after the welfare and progress of each of the member, that each one sees to it that no one is left out. That way, you get help in obtaining your documents.

Watch out for our eclectic group of happy people, board exam, you will have your time.






24 May 2011

On taking offense

University degrees does not warrant education. Some people get so many degrees yet they remain stupid, culturally insensitive, bigot, and possibly xenocentric.

I have encountered a handful of these kinds of people, the worst of which was a very close high school friend. I am not directly in contact with all these people anymore, and if possible, I try to avoid being in contact with them in the future. I get rabid around them.

Being in a state-funded (or at least, partially) university does not help. I feel even sadder to hear that people whose education was funded by the people’s taxes have the gall to look down on their country, on their city. Yes, just because we didn’t have starbucks does not mean we’re lesser people; or just because we didn’t work with the whites or have white bosses does not make us unaware of international current events and global opinion.

I chose to work in the country because I know that it needs me here. My want to stay here goes beyond my family being here, my friends being here, my source of happiness being here. I love this country and I want to make it better.

The reason why I took up urban and regional planning is because I realized the power that planners have to make or break a city, a town, a country. I took up urban planning in hopes that my diploma would at least attract the attention of hometown’s local government and hire me. I was not after getting a six-digit salary, although i know that that is not impossible. I wanted to work in my hometown’s planning office because all my life, i’ve never seen my town move forward. Yes, there are big houses now—my neighbors who used to sell fish at the market now has a mansion, thanks to their kids who work either as seamen or land-based OFWs, domestic helpers, caregivers, or CAD monkeys. But we’ve lost our beaches to coastal slums, things that were never there 10, 15 years ago. The houses in my towns got bigger, I’ve seen families acquire cars, but I cannot deny that my town remains to be one of the best sources of MAIDS. Yes, MAIDS.

I’m never happy when I hear that.

My town is a microcosm of the whole Philippines—we’re known to be the best source of housemaids.

My point is, I don’t fucking care about YOUR international experience. My point is, if all Filipinos think like you do, we might us well turn ourselves into OFW factories and stop living as Filipinos. After all, it’s the dollars and the snow and the international experience we’re after, not a nation that moves forward and finds an identity, an identity not dictated by foreign aids and YOUR international experience.


Yes, Jonabelle, that is my point.



FIN.


19 May 2011

The Killers Week.

I'm coming out of my cage
And I've been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this?
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I'm falling asleep
And she's calling a cab
While he's having a smoke
And she's taking a drag
Now they're going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it's all in my head
But she's touching his chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, letting me go

And I just can't look - it's killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis
But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
'˜Cause I'm Mr Brightside

I'm coming out of my cage
And I've been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this?
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I'm falling asleep
And she's calling a cab
While he's having a smoke
And she's taking a drag
Now they're going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it's all in my head
But she's touching his chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, letting me go

'Cause I just can't look - it's killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Turning through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis
But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
'Cause I'm Mr Brightside

I never...
I never...
I never...
I never...





-----




I've told my husband several times he was crazy for marrying me. because i am a difficult person to deal with and because i am not supposed to be married. 
but surprisingly, i am having fun living with him and having a kid around. 
maybe it's the books that do it. you know, when you have so much books in your room and you lose a chair to several more books and...
i'm on my The Killers week today. 
i told husband i can clearly imagine him playing guitar of The Killers' song in a full-packed arena. like Mr. Brightside. Or WHen we Were Young, because WHen We Were Young is more painful.
because Mr. Brightside is about jealousy and i'm quite alien to that? wazizzzdat?
I told him maybe it's because of his hair. 
ANd he said, "I really have to lose some of these beer belly for the fans."








This video is by Vevo. and vevo suck. it's just too bad.